Time to Reboot and Refresh

Don’t you just love computer language? Since computers are so much a part of our lives, it make sense that we would share vocabulary that pertains to them with reference to our own sense of wellbeing. That fact has to be made all the more ironic because computers are, of course, part of our big problem, too.

It’s true we each of us have control over computers and how much time we spend sitting in front of them. But this so-called control is not unlike, in my mind, how we have control over not smoking or stuffing Twinkies in our mouths. On the face of it, it looks like this is something we control, at least in theory, but do we really?

The US government doesn’t think we do. It actually encourages us to believe that we DON’T have control by affirming to us that the reason we’re all getting fat is not because we can’t stop eating the wrong thing, it’s because there isn’t a law forbidding us to eat the wrong thing.

The point I’m trying to circle around to is the one that says, once again, we are the authors of our own misery—caused invariably by the fact that we refuse to stop for a minute and see what we’re doing and see the damage we’re doing. And that’s true whether it’s cigarettes or iHop pancakes or six hours of staring at a computer screen. Six hours probably won’t kill any of us, but doing it every day—or bumping the six hours to ten like I can EASILY do—just might. And not in a grab-your-heart-and-keel-over-the-keyboard kind of kill you, but in a TS Eliot life-measured-out-in-coffee-spoons kind of death. Bit by byte. (Forgive me; I clearly have no control over easily resistible puns either.)

Six years ago, an anthropologist named Cheryl Swanson, a partner in the trend-tracking firm, Toniq, was quoted as saying that we (she was speaking about Americans but I can comfortable extend the target to my entire blog audience) are now processing information at 400 times the rate of our Renaissance ancestors. But we haven’t yet adapted physically or mentally to do it in a way that doesn’t compromise our health.

Added to the 400 times more information we are all attempting to process is the fact that it does not come with 400 extra hours in the day to do so. Without really agreeing to it or even realizing it was happening, how we get those extra hours is by giving up other stuff that used to enhance our lives and heighten our quality of life: sleep, staring at a sunset, walking instead of riding, watching a chrysalis hatch, eating a slow meal with loved ones. I’m a baker and a Martha Stewart zealot. I used to fantasize about a place setting for twelve for Thanksgiving dinner complete with matching turkey saltshakers at every place. And yet, the last year my son was home before he went off to college, our family meals consisted of the three of us standing at the kitchen counter to wolf down our meals (half the time our son took his meal in his bedroom with his calculus homework.) Swanson’s research indicated that in the sixties, dinner was 45 minutes long. By the nineties, it had shrunk to fifteen minutes and today—well, let’s just say that, sadly (forgive me, Martha!), I’m a poster child for family dinners of today. Standing. In fewer than five minutes. It takes more time to make it and clean up after it than to “enjoy” it. And of course, food manufacturers have been hard at work to help us with that part of the equation by creating cheap mix-and-go food that’s a snap to make and even digest. Of course it tastes like donkey dung and brings no moment of pleasure or satisfaction beyond killing hunger pangs but at least you can skip the wash up and just dump the cartons in the trash and call it done. (What next? An IV drip?) I guess there was some big fat reason that forced us to live like this. There was obviously some important trade off that made it worthwhile. I quake to think it was just so we could get extra time in front of the computer terminal or worse, the TV set.

Bottom line? We’re left with a population of people—of all ages—strung out, sleep-deprived and jittery with hyper-enlarged concerns (from ingestion of too much news) that we’re convinced matter very much and probably don’t at all.

Maybe that’s why I find myself writing and reading apocalyptic fiction so much. I have been fascinated (and fearful) by the concept of technological over stimulation in our culture ever since I watched my nine-year-old son eschew a live-action fireworks display in favor of saving the planet from alien zombies on his GameBoy. My post-apocalyptic book Free Falling was written, largely, because of my helpless concern and my desire to live in a simpler, less technological time.

Let’s face it. Wasn’t the last time we all slowed down, lit a candle and stared peacefully into space sometime during the last power outage? Or how about that time you got sick and stayed in bed with magazines and a box of tissues and just the sound of your own sniffling and the cat purring? Wasn’t it kind of wonderful at the same time it was miserable?

What does that tell you?

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10 Comments

jon Dahlstrom
on September 26, 2012 at 11:59 am

For me there are three zones.

First, Crazy, hectic, spread all over the place, with an inability to concentrate on the task at hand for even a moment. This is a time of extreme creative activity, with breakthrough idea rabbits running all over the place. the answer is take a walk on the beach or through the woods, rain helps. when I was sailing, it was time to pull up the anchor and go chasing dolphins.

Second. locked in and on track, hours go by with words falling into place, happy accidents, story and illustration holding hands as complete dance partners each catching the breeze under their wings as they skim inches above the waves and dive through sunsets. The task here is to keep the juices flowing without thinking about the magic of it all. it’s like riding a fast horse, as soon as I become aware of the way my movements and the horses pounding hoofs have become one, the whole thing falls apart. at that point nothing I can do will bring it back. again it’s time to take a walk, take a new tack, or talk to a dog.

Third is deadline crunch time, it’s machine time, sit down and do what I know how to do, the same old pieces of the same old puzzle, forget breakthroughs and magic, just you and the clock getting the job done on time, on budget. no surprises just my every day stuff put together the best I can. the right words in the right places, the right colors and brush strokes good enough to earn my pay.
the surprise is more often than not these stories and illustrations have been my best stuff. the ones I’m the most proud of. and guess what, once started, I didn’t have to trick myself into working on them. after the job’s delivered and accepted 36 hour days don’t mean a thing.

I love this post! I certainly resonate with it personally, since my husband and I have made major Overhauls of our lifestyle such that we can relax more and focus on our top priorities, rather than trying to meet everyone else’s expectations. But also, professionally, I even more strongly agree. As a life coach, I see way too many people who are strung out and exhausted because they’re trying to be 1000 places at once. And the truth is, when those people step back and take a deep breath, they discover that the things that will truly make them happy are mostly simple and achievable. They just need to slow down so there’s enough time and space to do them.

Great post. Just finished reading A Wrinkle in Time as an adult and the description of life on The dead planet seemed a lot like what we are trying to do. Everything just alike Everyone just alike. No color no individualality allowed. Not my kind of place or life. We all need to slow down and enjoy what makes us happy

Great post – and you are quite right. I also think our attention spans are seriously dropping with that acceleration of the pace of life. Symptomatic, perhaps, of the ease with which we can flit, superficially, around topics on the web – we are being conditioned by it into thought patterns that are unique in the history of humanity. A good thing? Not sure. The knowledge is nice, but I can’t help thinking we’ve all lost something along the way. Including, as you point out, even the chance to stop, draw breath, and have a family meal. New Zealand, I fear, is no different to any other western nation in that regard.

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